


Kitten

by Callie4180



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, veterinary au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-29 19:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8502091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callie4180/pseuds/Callie4180
Summary: Arthur heard a slight scratching, followed by a tiny meow. ...and a man with a kitten needs a veterinarian, right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kedgeree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kedgeree/gifts).



> To celebrate the birthday of the brilliant Kedgeree: my first ever Inception fic. Happiest of birthdays, dear one. 
> 
> This fic is complete and updates will be posted daily, and of course it has a happy ending, because it's KEDGEREE'S BIRTHDAY.
> 
> Warning: there is some medical discussion in this story, though nothing explicit, and a character has a panic attack in a later chapter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Special delivery: eight weeks old.

Arthur leaned back in his leather chair, removed the reading glasses he absolutely did not wear, and rubbed his burning eyes. It was the end of a long day at the end of a long week, and the weekend didn’t look very promising either. This brief needed work. His case had reached that delicate tipping point between settlement and trial, and he had to be on top of it at every moment. His eyes wandered across his desk to the calendar hanging on the wall. Twelve more days to jury selection, if this bastard didn’t--wait. He frowned.

Today was his birthday. How had he forgotten his own birthday? He double checked the date, and sighed.  
  
Once upon a time, birthdays had been a time for fun and family, dates and romance, parties and dancing, but those days were long gone now. Now his days were spent in court, or dealing with depositions and discovery. He spent his nights here in the unchanging order of his condo squinting at papers, getting and staying ahead, being efficient, savoring (yes, savoring) the quiet. It was what you had to do to win. It was lonely work, sure, but that was just the nature of it. If he sometimes longed for a little noise, a bit of litter, a hint of mess among the gleaming perfection of his rooms, well, he could always shake it off. It was probably just the stress talking.  
  
There was a knock at the door. Arthur started, and then checked the clock. It was far too late for a courier.  
  
He made his way to the door and looked through the peephole. There was no sign of anyone: no overenthusiastic clerks, no cranky neighbors, not even (a fanciful notion) friends with cake. His stomach rumbled at the thought, and he paused. When had he last eaten, anyway?  
  
He opened the door. The hallway was empty of people, but at his feet was a grocery bag, next to a large, brightly wrapped box topped with a large red bow. The mingled scents of orange chicken and eggrolls rose from the bag, making his mouth water. He crouched to check the tag on the box.  
  
You’ll thank me someday.    
<3 Ariadne  
  
He smiled. Ariadne, his college roommate, an architect of huge intellect and a heart sized nearly to match, always had enjoyed fussing over him. It had been too long since they had talked. He made a mental note to call her for a coffee date as he reached for the box--  
  
And froze when he heard a slight scratching, followed by a tiny meow.

\-------------------

Text: What the actual hell, Ari?  
_There’s food and a litter box in the bag._  
A litter box? Wait, for the apartment? You can’t be serious.  
_Oh, and you’ve got an appointment at the vet clinic around the corner tomorrow morning at 9_.  
You’re making me go to a MEDICAL office?  
_A VETERINARY MEDICAL office. You’ll be fine. Don’t piss them off, though_. _Word has it this guy is the best vet in the city._  
I’m going to kill you.  
_Enjoy the eggrolls. Happy birthday! xoxo <3 <3_

\-----------------------  
  
Client number: NEW  
Client name: Bachman, Arthur  
Appointment time: 9:00am  
Veterinarian: Eames  
  
Patient name: KITTEN  
Patient age: 8 weeks  
CC: new pet exam  
  
\-----  
  
“No, don’t go under the chair, don’t go under the--damn it.” Arthur crouched, reached, and stretched, but he couldn’t quite reach the kitten where she huddled, wide-eyed, in her dark, protected corner. He huffed an exasperated breath. He wasn’t dressed for this.

He flopped on his back and slid his shoulder under the chair, managing to brush just the tips of his fingers against her soft fur. “C’mon, you little…” he muttered, and stretched a bit more. He almost had her--

The back door to the exam room opened. Arthur blinked and then blinked again as he looked up into smiling blue eyes and wondered if what he was feeling could be defined as ‘humiliation.’ ‘Embarrassment’ didn’t feel strong enough, somehow.  
  
“Mr. Bachman?” said the full lips under the smiling eyes, and was that a British accent? What was a British veterinarian doing in New York, and why was Arthur still lying on the floor?  
  
“Lost something under there, did we? Happens all the time.” The veterinarian placed his clipboard onto the counter, walked around the examination table, and carefully sliding the chair aside, in one graceful gesture, crouched and swooped the kitten out from her hiding place. “Well, hello there, darling,” he crooned to the kitten as he cuddled her to his chest with one arm. It occurred to Arthur that dying of humiliation suddenly didn’t seem so bad an option, as long as being reincarnated as a kitten, preferably that kitten right now, was part of the deal.

And...he was still on the floor.  
  
The veterinarian straightened and offered Arthur his other hand. “Well, then, up you get, Mr. Bachman. We have a kitten to torture.”  
  
Arthur hesitated for only a moment, before taking the hand and pulling himself to his feet. “Ah, you are a brave man, sir,” the vet said with a grin as Arthur brushed off his clothes and regained his scant dignity. “Anyone who takes the hand of a veterinarian without examining it first has a surplus of courage.”  
  
“What? Oh. Oh, God,” Arthur said, quickly checking his hands, while his short term memory quickly reassured him that this doctor’s touch had been warm and dry and pleasant. He looked up to see that the doctor’s grin had softened somewhat.  
  
“Relax, Mr. Bachman, I’m only joking,” the doctor said gently. “One does wash, you know.”  
  
Arthur straightened. “Of course. I’m just not used to…” He waved a hand at the exam room. “Medical settings. Medical--humor.”  
  
“Such as it is.” The doctor’s eyes twinkled for a second. “It was a weak quip, I’ll grant you, but it is rather early. I get funnier as the day goes on. Try to remember that for next time.”

“I will,” Arthur said, distracted, watching the kitten nestle under the collar of the doctor’s lab coat, up against his collar, because--was that shirt--was that paisley? Who wore paisley? And did he get it tailored, because nothing paisley should fit so well, and--the kitten had started wiggling in the doctor’s arm in a squirming bid for attention.

“I'm not ignoring you, darling,” said the doctor as he scratched the kitten’s ear. “It's all about you from here on out. Now. This one’s name is…”  
  
“I just call it Kitten, for now,” Arthur said. He frowned at the thought. “Is that all right? I hadn’t even thought about a name.”  
  
“It’s fine,” the doctor murmured, nearly cooing at the kitten with a purse of those lips. “She’ll tell you her name soon enough. Cats rarely come when they’re called, anyway. It's part of their charm.” He placed the kitten on the table and started to examine her, gentle and sure. “So how did you come by this little angel, anyway?” he said, as he shined a light into the kitten’s eyes.  
  
Arthur snorted. “My, uh, friend gave her to me.”  
  
The doctor nodded. “A friend,” he said neutrally.  
  
“For the time being, yeah.” Arthur watched as the doctor palpated the kitten’s abdomen with one careful hand. “She didn’t think I had enough to worry about, apparently.” He sighed. “I don’t know if I should even keep it. My job is pretty demanding. I work a lot.”  
  
The doctor hummed. “Maybe your friend is trying to get you to spend more time at home.”  
  
“Maybe,” Arthur said absently, as he watched the kitten wiggle in the doctor’s large hands. “She is a bit of a meddler.”  
  
“Maybe she misses you.”  
  
“What?” Arthur asked distantly, watching the doctor’s long, well-shaped fingers moving through the soft fur. Then he started. “Oh. Oh, no, we don't live together. She’s not my girlfriend or anything like that,” he said, shuddering. “God, no. She’s my roommate from college. She just fancies herself my…”  
  
“Conscience?”  
  
“I was going to say mother.” The veterinarian chuckled, and Arthur smiled, warmed by the sound.  
  
“Right. Well, your ersatz mother has given you a perfect little tabby kitten,” the vet declared, picking the kitten up and tucking the lucky thing up against his chest again. “I’ll just steal this baby for a minute to give her her first jab and deworming, if you don’t mind.” He handed Arthur a small cardboard box. “This is a kitten kit. There’s flea control samples, treats, and a couple of little toys. I’ve put a booklet on kitten care in there, and there’s a magnet with the number of the local emergency clinic. Now, we won’t be but a minute. You can go out to the desk and schedule her next appointment, if you like.”  
  
“Wait, it needs to come back?” Arthur stared at him in disbelief. “Really?”

“Yes, Mr. Bachman. She does,” the veterinarian said patiently. “Your kitten has an incomplete immune system, and she’ll need booster vaccines, like a human baby would. She’ll also need a repeat deworming in a couple of weeks, though that’s just an appointment with the technicians.” He tilted his head and considered Arthur with curiosity. “Will that be all right?” he asked, his tone softer, and Arthur briefly wondered what the doctor was seeing in his face.

“Uh, yeah, of course. Sorry.” Arthur shook his head, embarrassed again. “I guess I should have looked into all of that. This is all a bit overwhelming. I’ve never had a pet before, and I uh, well. I don’t do very well with medical, um, stuff.”  
  
“Ah. Of course.” The veterinarian nodded and looked down at the kitten. Arthur gave his head a little shake and took advantage of the moment to pull himself together. “We see that sort of thing all the time,” the doctor continued. “It’s common in men, especially. I’ll do my best to spare you whatever I can.”

“Thanks,” Arthur said, and was surprised to find he meant it. “I appreciate that.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Bachman, we’ll get you through it,” the doctor said, looking up with a warm grin. “You can call me anytime.”

Arthur stared after the vet and the kitten as they left the exam room. The doctor’s lab coat did nothing to hide his broad shoulders and his round, muscular ass. There was a hot British veterinarian in the middle of the city with deft fingers and a paisley shirt who had told Arthur to call him anytime. That could have been flirting, definitely. Maybe.

...and now he was just standing here, staring at the closed door to the treatment room. He was clearly not at his best.

Blinking, Arthur turned and stumbled through to the lobby. Mildly dazed, he made his way to the front desk, where the receptionist gave him a knowing smile.  
  
“His name is Eames. Doctor Eames,” she said. “He always forgets to introduce himself. Now, shall we schedule your next appointment?”

“Yeah,” Arthur mumbled. “we should--yeah.” He pulled out his phone and brought up his calendar.

“Do you want to see Dr. Eames again?”

“Yes, please,” Arthur answered, a bit too quickly.  
____

Text from Ariadne: _What did you think of the vet?_  
Where did you find him?  
_Yelp. He had a five star rating. Why? Did something happen?_  
Everything is fine. He was OK. Thanks.  
_And what did he think of the kitten?_  
He thinks she’s a vicious creature with no redeeming qualities whatsoever.  
_Aw, you love her already. That’s sweet. xoxo_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cats have intrinsic respect for tea. It's in their DNA.

Client number: 7998  
Client name: Bachman, Arthur  
Appointment time: 7:30 AM  
Veterinarian: Eames

Patient name: KITTEN  
Patient age: 12 weeks  
CC: Vaccine series #2

\-----

Arthur stood in the exam room, absently watching the kitten play in the trashcan. In the four weeks that had passed, he’d thought often of the vibrant (and ridiculously attractive) Dr. Eames, but he’d still almost forgotten this appointment. He had a major discovery conference scheduled for later this morning. There were several teams of lawyers and paralegals involved, and the logistics of the meeting had been nightmarish. After extensive negotiations and some very impressive posturing by both sides, they had all agreed to use the conference room in the downtown office. Traffic hadn’t been too bad, but you never knew. He’d have time to stop for a latte and still be right on time if the doctor would  _ hurry _ \--

“Good morning, Mr. Bachman,” a deep voice murmured behind him. 

“Jesus!” Arthur jumped. “Christ, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” Dr. Eames said, with no apology in his voice whatsoever. He grinned and held out a paper cup. “I came through the lobby to get you a coffee.”

“Oh.” Arthur blinked. “Um, thanks. That makes up for the heart attack, I guess.”

Eames nodded in reply. “No worries. I saw you yawning in the lobby. Can’t blame you, it’s bloody early.”

“Yeah. And it’s going to be a busy day.” Arthur took a sip of the coffee and smiled with relief. ”I’m glad you offer early appointments.”

“Well, I’m not a big sleeper, so I figure I might as well get an early start.” Eames was wearing a black hoodie over a pair of surgical scrub pants in an eye-popping shade of violet. The combination worked, somehow. God, had this guy grown hotter in just one month? Was that even possible? Arthur found himself idly wondering if it was too late to pursue veterinary medicine as a second career, and if this particular clinic accepted interns.

Eames gestured to the kitten, who was now fighting a paper towel to the death. “I noticed you still haven’t come up with a name.” 

Arthur grinned sheepishly. “No, I haven’t. Just haven’t had the time to think about it. You know, properly.” 

Eames nodded, a twinkle in his eye. “It  _ is _ an awesome responsibility,” he said solemnly. “You wouldn’t want to rush it.” 

Arthur’s gaze slipped down to the improbable mouth beneath the crinkling brown eyes. Really, who had a mouth like that? A mouth like that required study, required the cataloging of infinite detail, and surely a veterinary internship would need to be lengthy, several months if not years, and--

Arthur was brought back to reality as Dr. Eames picked the kitten up and bopped her on the nose. “So, how is it going with this little one?”

“Ah. Fine.” Arthur frowned. “Actually, no. That’s not true. It’s not going so well.”

Eames looked surprised. “Is she aggressive? Does she bite?”

Arthur shook his head. “No, no biting. Well, she nibbles a bit, but she doesn’t mean it, and anyway, that’s getting better.”

“All right, then--stalking? Pouncing? Doesn’t use the litter box?”

Arthur shook his head again. “No. No, she’s fine about all of that. She’s just--snuggly.”

Eames blinked, bemused. “Snuggly.”

“Yeah. Snuggly.  _ Needy. _ She’s on me all the time!”  Arthur threw his hands up in frustration. “It drives me  _ crazy." _

Eames scratched his head. “Mr. Bachman, I--”

“She curls up on me, and falls asleep, and she’s just--she’s just out, and I can’t move when she’s like that--”

“Well, really, you--”

“I can’t get up, I can’t reach for things, I can’t--I can’t get a damn cup of tea! I get dehydrated.” Arthur pointed at the kitten with a scowl. “This cat is damaging my health.”

“That seems a little--”

“And oh, my god, in bed! She hogs the bed like--like--well, like a hog. And look at her! She’s what, five pounds?”

“Three and a half.”

“Three and a half pounds! How does she take up so much space? It's like three-quarters of the bed! And it’s every damn night! I’ve had boyfriends with bigger biceps than her  _ entire body _ that--” Arthur stopped suddenly at Eames’ quirked eyebrow. He groaned inside as he realized he had admitted he was currently single. Fuck. That was smooth.

Eames was obviously suppressing a smile as he prepared to speak.

“There’s something you should know, Mr. Bachman.”

Oh, god. Arthur’s palms began to sweat, but he swallowed and nodded for Eames to go on.

“I feel your pain--but writ large. I have four dogs and three cats.”

Arthur blinked in astonishment. “What?”

“Two of them are big dogs. Really big dogs. I don’t have any family left, so I have dogs and cats instead. Oh, and I have a guinea pig someone left at the clinic door a few months ago.” Eames chuckled. “Now  _ that  _ little bastard gets loud sometimes.”

“How do you--” Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Do you live in a mansion? Or on a farm, or something?”

“No, no, I live in a flat. Well, a townhouse. A condo, you call them, about six blocks from here. I usually bike to work, so I can go home at lunch and check on them.”

Arthur shook his head. “That’s insane. I mean, animals are obviously your  _ thing _ \--” He waved a hand around, first indicating the kitten, and then the entire clinic. “But how do you get anything done at home?”

Eames shrugged. “I just do, or don’t, depending. For one thing, they’re all adults now, so they aren’t quite as demanding. But--” He shrugged. “They are a part of my life. The biggest part, actually. And I find that--hold up.” He held one finger to his mouth and shook his head. “I'm sorry, I’m just going on, aren’t I. You don’t need to hear this.”

“No, I’d like to. Please go on.”

Eames took a deep breath. “Well, I like chaos. I  _ like _ toys everywhere, and multiple food bowls all over the kitchen, and dog hair in the vacuum. When I order a pizza, and the doorbell rings and everyone goes crazy, I think that’s  _ hilarious. _ And really, I don’t mind having to shift one hundred pounds of Great Dane over in the bed at night, or waking up with cat breath in my face. My animals make me laugh every day. And they actually need me.” He smiled, his gaze turned inward. “Messy isn’t bad. Chaos is a great indicator of life.” He picked up the kitten and lifted her chin with one finger. “They remind me not to take my troubles too seriously,” he said softly, as he rubbed behind her ears. “And we all need a bit of that, I think.”

Arthur took in a deep breath. “I--I still think it sounds a bit insane.”

“Oh, it is,” Eames said cheerfully. “It’s  _ completely _ insane; you’re kind to add the qualifier. But it works for me. They help keep me balanced. If I come in on Sundays to catch up on paperwork, I have to bring the dogs along with me. It’s a rule. And if I even think of skipping a run, I have several very judgmental running partners who keep me on the straight and narrow.”

“Huh.” Arthur watched as the kitten settled her chin against the doctor’s chest. “Maybe I don’t have it so bad.”

“I don’t think you do. I’ll even let you in on a little secret.” Eames leaned forward conspiratorially. “If you put the kitten down to get a cup of tea,” he whispered, “she’ll forgive you. She’ll even come back.”

Arthur grinned. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, absolutely. Cats have intrinsic respect for tea. It’s in their DNA. And with that, I’ve taken up far too much of your time. I’ll steal your anonymous kitten here for a second and then get you on your way.”

Arthur watched the kitten nuzzle Eames’ finger and swallowed down a tiny flare of jealousy. “Wait. How would you do it?” He cleared his throat. “Come up with a name, I mean.”

Eames paused and tilted his head thoughtfully. “Well, I’ve named a lot of pets, you know. Usually something just occurs to me, something that fits them. But if I’m stuck, I look around me for inspiration. Something will catch my eye, and suggest a name.”

“Like what?”

“Like...” Eames pointed to an overstuffed fake fur pillow on one of the exam room chairs. “Fluffy.”

Arthur looked back at him with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Well, I didn’t say they were good names,” Eames admitted. “But you get the idea. Now let’s see. For this little lady, it should be something beautiful.” He pointed to a picture on the wall, a watercolor of a yellow Labrador puppy sitting in a bright garden full of flowers. “Daisy. Or--” He pointed to the cover of one of the gossip magazines in the rack on the wall. “How about Sophie? Scarlet? Or--” His eyes came back to Arthur’s face, settling on Arthur’s amused grin. “Dimples.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. “Dimples?”

Eames blinked and shook his head a little, as if to clear it. “Um, maybe not. But you get the idea.” Arthur’s eyes widened as a slight blush tinted Eames’ cheeks. “We’ll--we’ll just meet you up front.” 

“Right,” Arthur said faintly, staring. “Up front.”

“Right.” Eames cleared his throat and tilted his head to smile down at the kitten, and a tiny hint of ink peeked up above the neck of his sweatshirt. Oh god, the man had tattoos.

Arthur appreciated tattoos. He really, really appreciated tattoos. His first boyfriend had had a tiger on his shoulder, and while he had left the rest of the memories of that boyfriend long behind, he’d never let go of his fascination with tattoos. He’d never wanted one (the needles, god, and the smell, that antiseptic smell), but oh, how he admired them. Passionately. They were, to put it bluntly, one of his major turn ons.

This was not good.

He took a second to catch his breath before heading back to the lobby. The receptionist greeted him with her warm, familiar smile. “Ah, Mr. Bachman. Should only be a moment, and we’ll get you on your way. I know you were in a hurry this morning.”

“Hmm, yes, thank you,” Arthur said, his mind still in the exam room. Dimples. Had Eames really just-- And the tattoo, what was it, did he have--

“While you’re waiting, you can schedule her surgery, if you’d like.” The woman looked up at him expectantly. “Do you have your schedule for next month with you?”

“Surgery?” Arthur asked, still distracted. “There’s nothing wrong with her.”

“Right, but your kitten is a female, and she’ll need to be spayed,” she said, with the tone of someone who has had the same conversation a hundred times before.

“Spayed?”

“Right. You know. Altered? Fixed?” Arthur lifted his eyebrow, still puzzled. “Rendered unable to reproduce?”

“Oh.” Arthur blinked. “Yeah. OK.”

\-----

Text to Ariadne: I didn’t know about the surgery. You didn’t tell me she’d need surgery.  
_ Isn’t your big conference today?_  
SURGERY, Ari.  
_ It was in all that paperwork you got last time. Everyone gets it done._  
Everyone?  
_ Yeah. She was too small when I got her, or the rescue would have done it. _  
_ It’s fine, Arthur. It’s routine._  
I still don’t like it.   
_ It’ll be fine. _  
Can you imagine having four dogs?  
_ Wait, what? No. No, I can’t._  
_ Who has four dogs?_  
_ Arthur? Are you still there?_  
I’m here. I’m just freaking out about this surgery thing, I guess.  
_ I get that. Look, do you like your vet?_  
What? Why would you ask that?  
_ I mean, do you trust him._  
Oh. Yeah, I guess so. You said he was the best, after all.  
_ Great, then just do whatever he says. _  
_ Hello?  
_ Fine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne sees Arthur through spay day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a little bit of medical talk in this chapter. I should probably take a minute to warn you in general: in real life, I am actually a veterinarian. As a group, we are notoriously poor at gauging what is and isn't appropriate for polite conversation. So if you have any questions about particular concerns, please do get in touch before reading. I promise there are no descriptions of blood or effluvia throughout the entire story, and (spoiler alert) nothing dies.

Client number: 7998  
Client name: Bachman, Arthur  
Appointment time: Drop off/surgery  
Veterinarian: Eames

Patient name: KITTEN  
Patient age: 17 weeks  
CC: Routine spay, final vax series

\-----

Arthur clutched the kitten to his chest, whispering to her as she wriggled in his arms. He thought she could probably feel the tension in his body. He was stressed, but it wasn’t because of all this surgery stuff. No. His latest case was almost settled, and that was good, but it had been a lot of work, and, honestly, he hadn’t slept well the past few days. This was his normal state, though. It had nothing to do with this appointment. He’d done his research; he knew this was a routine procedure. His kitten would be fine. She probably wouldn’t even know anything had happened. There was no need to be anxious.

Right. There was no need to feel sick, either, but here he was.

The door to the exam room opened. Eames stepped in with a beaming grin that disappeared the second he took one look at Arthur. He swiftly closed the door, dropped the chart on the table and stepped around to come up close to his side.

“It’s OK to be nervous, mate,” Eames said softly. He reached forward and put a gentle hand on Arthur’s forearm, just where it started to curve protectively around the kitten. “Everyone is, at least a little.”

Arthur swallowed. “I’m not nervous,” he said, and frowned at the faint quiver in his voice.

“Of course you are,” Eames said warmly. “You’re a smart man, and you care. You went and looked it all up on the bloody internet, and now you know just enough to be freaked out.” He squeezed Arthur’s arm gently. “It’s going to be all right, Mr. Bachman.”

“I’m sorry, I just--” Arthur took a deep breath. “I hate medical stuff. I  _ hate  _ it. And I hate that she’s going to hurt.”

“She’s not going to hurt,” Eames said firmly. “I have drugs for that, and I use them with alacrity. She’s  _ not going to hurt, _ Arthur.”

Arthur nodded tightly. “Normally, I’d love to make fun of the fact that you just used ‘alacrity’ in a sentence, but I don’t have it in me right now.”

“My lucky day, then.” Eames smiled. “Look, what do you need to hear to be able to handle this? I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve done this procedure. I did a dozen last week alone. Do you want to hear about our monitoring, or about why we use the drugs we use? How about the fact that spaying markedly decreases the incidence of mammary cancer, and that that particular cancer, and I’m going to use the medical term here, is an absolute bitch?”

Arthur chuffed a brief, humorless laugh. “No, no, you don’t need to. It’s just going to be a long day, that’s all.” He squeezed the kitten once and only barely kept himself from brushing a kiss between her ears. “All right,” he said. “Here you go,” he said, and after one last moment of hesitation, handed her over.

Eames took the kitten in his free hand, and slid the other hand lightly up to Arthur’s shoulder, where he squeezed once, gently. “It will be fine, Arthur,” he said, firmly but with kindness. “I promise, I will text you the moment we are out of surgery. All right?”

Arthur closed his eyes. “Please,” he said, and it was more than an answer to the question.

\-----

Text to Ariadne: I’m taking the day off.  
_ My god. Are you dying? _  
Maybe.  
_ Wait. Today’s the day, isn’t it. Spay day. _  
Yes.  
_ How are you doing? _  
_ Arthur? _  
_ Right. On my way. _

\-----

“Arthur?” 

Arthur slowly opened his eyes before lifting his head from the desk. “In here.”

A moment passed, and a slight, dark haired woman with intelligent eyes and a serious expression peeked into his study. “Tell me you’re not sitting here alone in the dark drinking at nine AM.”

“No. It’s worse.” Arthur settled back and slid a pink and orange box across the desk. “I’m sitting here alone in the dark eating donuts. I saved you one.”

“Oh, dear god.” The woman strode over to the desk and lifted the lid of the box. “Donuts. Plural.” She blinked and pointed to a smear on the side of the box. “Is that cream filling?”

“Yup. It was, anyway.” He lowered his head back to the desk. “Thanks for coming, Ariadne,” he said, his voice muffled by his sleeve. “It’s nice not to suffer alone.”

Ariadne sighed and took the last donut. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about how much you hate this stuff. I know it brings back bad memories.” She placed a gentle head on the back of his head. “I should have just handled it for you.”

Arthur lifted his head. “No, it’s fine,” he said, with some resignation. “It hasn’t been so bad, really, the visits and all. They do everything where I can’t see it. And this is routine, after all, or so I keep being told.” He pushed the button on his phone and checked the time. “Though it certainly seems to be taking forever for something so goddamn  _ routine." _

“No word?” 

Arthur shook his head grimly. “Not yet.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sure they’re just busy.” She boosted herself up to sit on the desk next to him. “What do you want to--”

The beep of Arthur’s text alert interrupted her. Arthur lunged for his phone and pushed in his code with a shaking finger. There, on the screen, was a picture of his kitten, awake and well, and apparently screaming to the heavens.

Arthur let out his breath in a huff of relief.

Ariadne craned her neck to see. “Is she all right? What does it say?”

Another text alert beeped. Arthur grinned. “Ah, it says she came through the surgery fine, and seems quite content to announce it to the world.”

“Well, that sounds like her.”

Beep. “Oh. Ha.” At Ariadne’s curious glance, he went on. “The vet says that he was wrong, she’s just mad she still doesn’t have a name.”

Ariadne snorted. “Well, that could be true.”

“Shut up.”

Another beep, and this time a new picture filled the screen. Arthur looked at it, looked again, and then made a sound that was definitely not a squeak.

“What?”

Arthur blinked and shook his head, carefully placing the phone face down. “Oh, nothing, just another picture. The vet is--” He swallowed. “Holding her.”

“But you  _ squeaked. _ Is she being super cute? Because I’ve already figured out that you love her, so you don’t have to worry about your secret getting out.” Reaching around him quickly, Ariadne grabbed the phone. She blinked once and made her own squeak. “Holy--Arthur.  _ Arthur. _ That’s your vet?”

Arthur cleared his throat and affected a look of nonchalance. “Um, yes. Why?”

“Why? Are you fucking kidding me? He’s not holding her, he’s  _ cuddling _ her. That is the luckiest kitten  _ alive _ . That man--that’s--he’s gorgeous,” she finished on a sigh.

“Do you think so?” Arthur looked at the ceiling, feigning innocence. “I guess I didn’t notice.”

“Then you need medical attention, because...wait.” Ariadne reached behind her and flipped the light switch on his desk lamp. “You’re blushing. You’re  _ blushing. _ Arthur.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “All right, fine. He’s gorgeous. Of course I noticed.”

“And funny, sounds like.”

Arthur smiled faintly. “Thinks he is, yeah. He’s British, too.”

Ariadne zoomed in and squinted closely at the screen. “He’s wearing scrubs, and--wait. Is that--” She looked up at him, wide eyed. “He has tattoos.”

Arthur gave an exaggeratedly disinterested shrug. “Really? Huh.”

Ariadne deliberately set the phone on the desk and crossed her arms. “Arthur Bachman. You are  _ interested _ in your vet.”

“What? No.” Arthur leaned away from her. “That’s--he’s--he has four dogs, Ari.”

“Wait, he’s the dog man? Oh. My. God. That was like, what, a month ago? You  _ are _ interested!” Ariadne clapped her hands in delight. “This is amazing. You haven’t been on a date since, when, undergrad?”

“Hey, I dated in law school,” he said with a sniff.

“You  _ studied _ in law school, just sometimes you did it in a library with other people around. Don’t try to fool me.”

“Well, there was--” Arthur started to argue, but stopped with a frown. Ariadne lifted her eyebrow. “All right, maybe it’s been a while,” he mumbled. 

“Ask him out,” she said with authority.

“But--”

“Listen. Do you like him?”

He stared at her. “Yeah,” he finally admitted.

“Do you think he likes you?”

“Well…” Arthur smiled faintly and lifted one hand to the dimple on his cheek. “Maybe. Yeah.”

“Good. So we know he has taste.” She patted his hand. “When do you pick up the kitten?”

“Um, tomorrow morning. I have an appointment at 8:00.”

“Great. Get your kitten, pay your bill, thank him for his care, and ask him out.”

“But--”

“Arthur, ask him out, or I’ll do it for you.”

“You wouldn’t--” Arthur sighed in resignation. “Yes, you would. Look, I’ll think about it, all right?”

Ariadne beamed. “Excellent. You sit here and  _ think about it, _ and I’m gonna go make some coffee.”

She slid down from the desk and left the room, whistling. Arthur looked again at the photo of Eames and his kitten, smiling a little at the thrill of hope he felt ripple through him. This was all so unsettling. Surprising. Unexpected.

Chaotic.

And it was surprisingly all right with him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _...he didn’t grin like an idiot when Eames pushed through the door to the lobby, kitten in hand._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone for their kind words, either here or on Twitter.

Client number: 7998  
Client name: Bachman, Arthur  
Appointment time: 8:00 AM  
Veterinarian: Eames

Patient name: KITTEN  
Patient age: 17 weeks  
CC: Post-op patient discharge

\-----

“Here you go, Mr. Bachman.” The receptionist handed him his receipt. “I already called to the back, so they should be up any moment. Everyone is probably saying their goodbyes. She’s a sweet little thing.”

“Thanks.” Arthur nodded and managed a smile. He hoped it wouldn’t take too long; he was two and a half cups of coffee in on the day, and already jittery. He hadn’t slept well, and five texts from Ariadne with dating tips and asking him what he was wearing hadn’t helped.

He wasn’t nervous, though. He wasn’t. And he didn’t grin like an idiot when Eames pushed through the door to the lobby, kitten in hand.

“Here’s your little one,” Eames said, handing the kitten over. “I’m afraid we’ve rather ruined her. I’m not sure she spent a single awake moment alone in her kennel.”

“Great. Thanks for that,” Arthur said, pulling the kitten up against him. She immediately started purring, and he smiled with relief. “Well, hello, there. Did you miss me?”

Arthur looked up to see Eames watching him with soft eyes. “Of course she did,” Eames said quietly, before clearing his throat. “Right. Well. They gave you the aftercare instructions, I see. There are no external sutures to remove. Try to keep her from jumping around too much. She might be quiet for a couple of days, but that’s normal. In any case, call me if you’re concerned, all right?”

Arthur nodded.

“Okay, well, assuming you don’t need to call, and I do believe we can assume that, then I guess we’ll see you in a year. Do take care, Mr. Bachman.” Eames held out his hand and smiled, though for once it didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “It’s been a pleasure.”

Arthur leaned back in surprise. “What, a year? We don’t come back for a whole year?”

“Well, unless something happens, yes.” Eames shrugged. “She’s got all her vaccines, she’s dewormed, she’s been altered--that’s about it for now. She’s a lovely little kitten,” he said, lifting the hand he’d held out to scratch her once between the ears. “You’re going to be fine.” He offered the hand again. “My hand is clean, I promise. I’ve only touched your kitten.”

Arthur slowly clasped his hand and gave it a single shake. “Thank you,” he managed, his eyes flicking down to where their hands were joined. “You’ve been--wonderful.”

Eames nodded in reply. “Well, take care, then,” he said, and started to turn. 

“Wait,” Arthur blurted. He looked around them quickly, but they were alone in the lobby. Even the receptionist was absent, for once. “Can we--I mean, that is, would you--could we--oh, hell.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “Can I buy you coffee some time?” he finally got out, in a rush.

“Oh.” Eames’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, damn.” He took a step closer. “I didn't realize you--Look." He sighed. "As much as I--I don’t date clients, Arthur,” he said quietly. 

Arthur blinked. “What?” he asked. “But--”

Eames’s smile was gone; he just looked sad. “I had a bad experience in the past, very bad, and it--I just can’t do it. It never ends well, and my work is too important to me.” Eames reached over and squeezed his arm. “I  _ am _ sorry. Believe me. And I hate that I’ve just made things awkward between us.”

Arthur stared down at his hand for the moment it took the message to get through. “No, no.” He shook his head. How had he gotten this so wrong? “It was my mistake. I just--I guess I misread the situation.” He sniffed once, carefully pulled his arm away, and held his head up high. “Please accept my apology, Dr. Eames.”

Eames smiled sadly. “Jesus, don’t. You shouldn’t be sorry. You didn’t--that is, I wish--” He sighed, then straightened and took a half step back. “I’ve got to get to to work. Take care of her, all right?” After one last pat on the kitten’s head, he walked slowly to the door, pausing just before he pushed through. He looked over his shoulder, and Arthur could see his weak smile. “And for Christ’s sake, I want her to have a name the next time I see her.”

Arthur watched him walk out of the lobby, and squeezed the kitten just a bit more tightly to his chest. 

\---

Text from Ariadne:  _ How did it go? _  
_ Arthur? _  
_ Oh, dear. _  
_ Shall I bring donuts? _  
Vodka.

\---

“But, if everything you said is true, he wants it too,” Ariadne said, slowly, stirring her drink with a straw. “I mean, that was definitely flirting.”

“Well, I thought so.” Arthur said, absently watching the kitten dance along the table. “It wouldn’t be the first time I read the signs wrong, though. I guess he was just being friendly.” 

Ariadne tilted her head thoughtfully, “What if--you could go to another vet, right?” she asked tentatively. “Then you wouldn’t be a client.”

“I thought of that, but he didn’t mention it, and I didn’t know how to bring it up. Maybe he was just trying to let me down easy. Anyway, it’s like you said. He really is the best vet in the city.” He nodded at the kitten where she pawed at a napkin. “And she deserves the best.”

“That’s--” Ariadne blinked. “That’s incredibly sweet of you, Arthur.” She sniffed and looked away. 

“Wait, are you crying?” He sighed. “God, Ari, am I really that pathetic? I feel pathetic.” 

She dabbed the corner of her eye and shook her head. “The answer is no,” she said firmly. “You’re not. You love your kitten. And you’re lonely, and you work too hard, and you met a nice guy, and you asked him out. That’s not being pathetic, that’s being human.”

“Well, it sucks.” Arthur carefully lifted the kitten down to the floor, where she scampered off across the living room. 

“Yeah. It does.” She lifted the bottle of vodka. “Another?”

Arthur stood and stretched. “No, I guess not. I can’t sit and drink screwdrivers all day.”

Ariadne grinned. “No, you’re right. We should switch to scotch.”

Arthur smiled and started to reply, but was interrupted by a crash from the next room. He looked around the corner to see a very confused kitten standing in the middle of a mess of magazines and newspapers, a tall wicker basket lying on its side.

Ariadne peeked around him and started to chuckle. “Well, so much for keeping her quiet,” she said. “Come on, I’ll help you clean it up.”

The kitten shook her head and scampered toward them, and Arthur felt the hurt in his chest ease a tiny bit. “Oh, it's only paper. Leave it for a while,” he said, bending over and scooping the kitten into his arms. She nuzzled up against his chin, and despite his sadness, he couldn’t help but smile. “A little chaos won't hurt us.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kittens are idiots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder: I promised no one would die. Also, TW for panic attack. It's not terrible, but if you're concerned, ping me and I'll tell you where to leave and come back.
> 
> Also, I'm going to be traveling for these last few chapters. Apologies for the shift in posting times.

“Arthur?” Eames’ voice was muffled by the fog of the dark early morning. “It’s six AM. Why the hell are you--”

Arthur looked up with wide eyes from the bundle of blankets he held tightly to his chest. “It’s--she’s--she’s breathing, but--”

Eames looked from the blankets to Arthur’s face. His questioning expression abruptly shifted into one of calm resolve, and he turned to unlock the clinic door.

“In. Now,” he said with authority.

\-----

Client number: 7998  
Client name: Bachman, Arthur  
Appointment time: EMERGENCY WALK IN  
Veterinarian: Eames

Patient name: KITTEN  
Patient age: 7 months  
CC: Vomiting, lethargic, possible fever

\-----

Eames closed the exam room door behind them. “Tell me,” he said, as he gently lifted the bundle from Arthur’s arms and set it down on the table. He carefully pulled back the folds of the blanket to reveal the kitten lying quietly on her side.

Arthur hovered, pointlessly waving his cold-reddened hands in the air before pushing them into his pockets. “She was kind of quiet yesterday, just lying around, but I didn’t think anything of it,” he choked out, watching as Eames checked the kitten’s mouth and eyes. “Last night, I put her up on her side of the bed, like always. Then a couple of hours ago, I woke up and she was gone. I found her in the hallway, kind of crouched.” He pulled in on himself to demonstrate. 

Eames’s eyes flicked up briefly, and he nodded before returning his attention to the kitten. He gently poked around her abdomen, frowning all the while.

Arthur steeled himself to continue. “Then she--she vomited, like three times, and the third time she just kind of-- fell over.” 

“She vagaled out. Her nervous system temporarily short-circuited from the pressure caused by the vomiting. All right, and then what?” Eames’s voice was calm, but Arthur noticed he was starting to get pale. The kitten lifted her head and meowed weakly.

“Um, I grabbed her and got here as fast as I could. I know we left things kind of--I didn’t know what else to do, and I knew you said you come in early, so I--I only waited outside like fifteen minutes or so. I kept her warm, and--” Arthur grabbed the edge of the table and took a deep breath. “Eames, you look--what is it?”

Eames met his gaze, solemn. “Arthur, I need you to think for a minute. Have you had any ribbon or string, rubber bands, hair ties, anything like that, around your flat where she could get to it?”

“No. No, not that I can--wait. Wait.” Arthur’s eyes widened. “Ribbon. There was curling ribbon on a package I got from a client. Cookies. I threw it in the trash, but she gets in there all the time.”

Eames closed his eyes briefly. “All right. Listen closely. I need you to understand what’s going on.” Arthur nodded, biting his lip. “I think she’s got a linear foreign body,” Eames continued. “Her guts are all bunched up around something, probably that ribbon, and she’s at risk for perforation, if it hasn’t started already. We need to operate, Arthur. Right away.”

Arthur’s mouth fell open. “I--I--but she--” He opened his mouth and tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs refused to cooperate. The room began to spin, and his knees buckled. He collapsed into one of the chairs, gasping shallowly.

Eames’s eyes widened in surprise. He quickly stepped around the table and grabbed Arthur’s wrist. “Arthur.  _ Arthur _ . Stay with me, mate.” His index finger slid down to Arthur’s pulse point. “All right. You’re having a panic attack, but you’re going to be just fine. Arthur.” Eames took the hand he held and pressed it to his own chest. “Breathe with me for a minute, Arthur. Are you listening? We’re breathing now. In--” 

Arthur drew in a ragged breath. 

“--and out. Good. Another. In--”

Arthur drew in another breath, deeper this time.

“--and out. All right. One more...”

Another breath, and Arthur managed to shake his head.

“I’m okay,” he croaked. “I’ll be okay. It’s just--when I was little--my mom, in the hospital, and--I didn’t know. I didn’t know she--I was watching, and she--”

Realization lit Eames’s face. “Oh, Christ, Arthur. That’s why. That’s why you hate medical stuff. It’s not just a phobia.”

“Yeah.” Arthur pulled in another deep breath. “But I’ll be fine. Just--” His voice cracked. “Go help her. You have to help her, Eames.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He dropped Arthur’s hand, but it was another few seconds before he dragged his eyes from Arthur’s face and looked back at the kitten. “I do need to get things started. I’ll have the receptionist bring you some water, all right? But I need to get x-rays going and get surgery set up.” 

“Go,” Arthur said faintly. “Please.”

Eames hesitated another moment, but then he gently gathered up the kitten in her blankets and nearly ran out the door.

\-----

Arthur sat in the exam room alone for fifteen minutes, listening to doors slam and lab machines beep, alternating in his mind between ferocious self recrimination and heartfelt pleading to any deity that might be on duty. 

He’d missed it, the entire situation, missed the ribbon and missed her getting sick from it, and now she was critical and he had no idea if he’d been too late. This was it, this was why he’d never wanted a pet. He couldn’t be trusted. He brought home a stupid box of cookies, they weren’t even any good, had walnuts in them,  _ walnuts _ , and now his little cat was--

The door opened, and Eames walked back in, two coffee mugs in hand.  Arthur quickly sat upright.

“Is she--is she--”

“She’s stable. She’s being prepped, and I’m having them get some fluids into her before we go into surgery. Here.” He handed Arthur one of the mugs, and took a sip from the other. Arthur raised the mug shakily to his lips, but paused when the scent of the beverage hit his nose. 

“This isn’t coffee.”

“No.”

“It’s brandy.” He looked up at Eames with wide eyes. “We’re drinking brandy at 7:00 AM.”

“No.  _ We _ are not.  _ You _ are taking a calibrated dose of a well tested and highly effective drug known for helping those who have sustained a shock.  _ I’m _ having a double shot of espresso while my highly efficient staff preps my surgical patient.” He threw back the contents of his mug and shuddered. “There.” He put the cup down on the table and turned to face Arthur fully. “Now you.” He watched closely as Arthur took a tentative sip, and then another.

“That’s better,” he said, and then sighed. “I’m not going to lie, Arthur,” he said in a softer voice. “I’m worried. These can be tricky. She’s already got a fever. I’ve seen worse x-rays, but she’s in for a couple of rough days, at best. And so are you.”

Arthur swallowed and nodded tightly.

“We’re going to be at least an hour in surgery, and then another hour in recovery, and that’s if all goes well. Are you going to be all right? Can you get home?”

Arthur swallowed again and looked down at his hands, clasped tightly against the mug. “The friend who gave her to me is coming to pick me up.”

“Excellent. You can wait in here. Finish that,” he said sternly, pointing at the cup. “Then go home and try to get some rest. I’ll text you as soon as I have news.” He turned to leave, but stopped with his hand on the door handle.

“Arthur, one more thing,” Eames said in a gentler voice over his shoulder. “I don’t say this sort of thing often, but--don’t punish yourself for this. Puppies and kittens are idiots. This could have happened to anyone. You got her here as soon as you could, and that’s what matters.” He looked down at his hand on the handle for a moment, and then back over his shoulder. “I’m glad you brought her back to me.”

Arthur’s breath caught, and he blinked up at the ceiling to keep back the tears. “Eames,” he said, and it came out in a whisper. “You--you can do this, right?”

Eames sighed, turned, and stood before him, looking down with eyes filled with both worry and compassion.

“Yes, darling,” he said finally, bending over to press a soft kiss on the top of Arthur’s head. “I can.” 

Arthur closed his eyes. “I trust you,” he whispered, and a tiny piece of him marveled that it was true.

\-----

Text from Eames:  _ It was ribbon. The surgery went fine. _  
Any complications?  
_ Not really, no. She’s in recovery now. Seems stable. _  
Is she going to make it?  
Eames?  
_ I hope so. It’s up to her now. _  
_ Arthur? _  
All right. Please keep me posted.   
_ I will. _

Arthur flopped back on the couch and looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. This was going to be a long day.

Text: Eames?  
_ Yes? _  
Thank you.  
_ You’re welcome, Arthur. _  
_ Now get some rest, damn it. _


	6. Chapter 6

Day of surgery

11:30 AM

Text to Eames: How is she doing?  
_ Awake, starting to move around. Good vitals. _  
_ So far so good. _  
_ Get some rest. _

2:00 PM

Text to Eames: How is she doing?  
_ Sitting up, looking around. Very stable. _  
_ GET SOME REST. _

4:00 PM

Text to Eames: How is she doing?  
_ Have you gotten any sleep at all?_  
No. Have you?  
_ Touché. She’s fine, Arthur. She’s getting some sleep. You should try it. _

6:00 PM

Text to Eames: How is she doing?  
_ I’m trying to get her to eat a bit of slurry, but she’s a stubborn little thing. _  
Isn’t it kind of soon for food?  
_ No, I need to get her gut moving and keep her proteins up so everything heals properly. _  
I’m sorry. I shouldn’t second guess you.  
_ It’s OK. You’re far from the first to do so. _  
Are you going home soon?  
_ I think I’m going to stay with her a bit longer. I’ll feel better once she’s eaten something. _  
Should I come visit? I don’t want her to think I’ve abandoned her.  
_ Well, she’s mostly sleeping and she’s on a lot of drugs, so I don’t think you need to worry about that. Seriously, try to get some sleep. _  
_ Wait. Eat dinner first, then sleep. _  
All right.  
Thank you, Eames.  
_ No worries. _  


9:00 PM

Text from Eames:  _ Before you ask, she’s fine. Still not eating, though. And still has a bit of a fever. _  
I was just about to text you. Do I need to worry?  
_ I don’t think so. It’s not uncommon. It’s probably down to the drugs, to be honest. _  
So what happens now? You can’t stay there all night.  
_ Well, I’ll still be here a while. I have a lot of paperwork, but I can do that in treatment, so I’ll keep an eye on her. _  
What about your animals? Don’t you need to take care of them?  
_ Oh, they’re fine. There’s a 15 year old girl who wants to be a vet who lives in the other flat in my building. We have a well established emergency protocol. _  
That’s good. Add her wages to my bill.  
_ Ha. I pay her in links to funny cat videos and free advice on her horse. _  
Sounds like a bargain.  
_ It’s always good to have backup. _  
Do you have to call her in often?  
_ Often enough. _  
Well--thank you. I appreciate this.  
I mean everything. All of it.  
_ You’re welcome, Arthur. _  
_ I’ll text you in the morning. Now for Christ’s sake, get some sleep. _  


1:00 AM

Text to Eames: I miss her.  
_ I know.  _  
I didn’t think you’d be awake. Sorry.  
_ It’s all right. Go back to sleep. _

5:00 AM

Text to Eames: When you get in, will you let me know how she's doing?  
_ For CHRIST’S SAKE, Arthur. Will you please just COME DOWN HERE and VISIT YOUR KITTEN so I can get some BLOODY WORK done? _  
You’re already at the office?  
Wait. Did you ever go home?  
_ Bring decent coffee. And a scone. _  


\-----

Eames opened the clinic door and reached for the cup Arthur was holding out with a grin. “Oh, Jesus, are you a sight for a sore eyes. Tell me that’s a latte.”

Arthur grinned. “It’s a mocha. Can I come in?”

“Even better.” Eames stood aside and motioned Arthur inside. “If the scone is blueberry, I’ll discount the bill.”

Arthur shrugged. “They only had cranberry. But I did bring a banana nut muffin, too.” He stopped and looked more closely. “Jesus, Eames, you look like hell.”

“Hmm. So much for the discount.” Eames took a sip of his mocha and made a little noise of relief, before nodding to the treatment door. “Come on, I’ll show you where the magic happens.” He paused. “Will that--are you OK with that?”

“Oh.” Arthur paused. “Um, yeah, I think so. Is there anything going on back there?”

“No. The coast should be clear. It’s pretty quiet this early.”

“Good.” Arthur took a deep breath. “Then lead the way.”

They pushed through the swinging door, and Arthur blinked at the bright light and gleaming surfaces. There was no sign of other humans around, though a few dogs were barking in a well-insulated kennel room off to the side. An army cot was folded and standing in the corner, and a pillow rested on the counter nearby. Arthur started to frown at the antiseptic odor, but then his attention was drawn to the small tabby form in the corner cage. His kitten was sitting up and pawing at a toy mouse. Except for the shaved parts -- belly, arm -- she looked perfectly normal.

Eames followed his sight line, and grinned. 

“Her fever broke around two AM, and she finally started eating the slurry, so I pulled her IV catheter. She had a small meal of normal food about half an hour ago, and everything seems to be working as it should, judging by the litter box, so--”

“You saved her,” Arthur breathed.

“Well.” Eames shrugged his shoulders and gave a little smirk. “Maybe a little.”

“Oh my god.” Arthur turned to face him, his eyes glowing. “You--you  _ operated _ on her, and you stayed all night with her, and now she’s--Oh my GOD. You’re a miracle worker.”

Eames stared back at him for a long moment, before blinking and shaking his head. “Well.” He cleared his throat. “That’s it. As of now, your kitten is officially my favorite patient of all time.”

Arthur looked back to the kitten’s cage. She had caught sight of him, and was starting to rub up against the bars. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. She’s making me look good.”

“Oh, you always look good,” Arthur answered without thinking. His words caught up with him, and he winced. He glanced at Eames from the corner of his eye. “Sorry. I know I shouldn’t--I’m sorry. It’s just--” He sighed. “Look, can I just pet her?”

Eames blinked again, and he looked over to the cage. “Oh, I--yes, yes, of course. Just be careful picking her up.”

“I will. God. Just--Eames.” Arthur impulsively reached over and squeezed his hand, once, quickly.  _ "Thank you." _ He moved quickly to the cage and opened the door.

The kitten purred and mewed, batted at a toy and licked gravy from his finger, and through it all, he was aware of Eames watching from the corner, a tired but genuine smile on his face. And there was something else there, too: affection.

Well, she  _ was _ a very nice kitten.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And at last...Arthur names his kitten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (You guys are going to roll your eyes _so hard_ at the name.)
> 
> Thanks again to my beta squad, Mazarin221b, InvoluntaryOrange, EnduringChill and 221bJen. It takes a village to write in another fandom, at least for me. I'm very grateful to you all.
> 
> One last wish for many happy returns to my good friend Kedgeree. I know how you love your fluff, so I hoped this served.

Client number: 7998  
Client name: Bachman, Arthur  
Appointment time: 5:30 PM  
Veterinarian: TECH APPT

Patient name: KITTEN  
Patient age: 8 months  
CC: Post-op suture removal  


\-----

“All right, then, Mr. Bachman, we’ll just take Kitten to the back and get those sutures out for you.” The receptionist beamed at him, and reached for the carrier he held in one hand. “It should only take a minute, so--”

The phone on the desk chirped, and the receptionist held up a finger. “Just a moment, sir, and I’ll be right back with you.” She answered and murmured into the receiver for a moment, looking briefly perplexed before hanging up. “Well, change of plans, Mr. Bachman. Dr. Eames wants to see you in a room. Do you have a few minutes?”

“Of course,” Arthur said with a smile. He indicated the pink box in his hand. “I’ve got something for him, anyway.”

“Then right this way.” She ushered him into the exam room and gave him one last confused glance before closing the door.

It was only a few seconds before Eames came in through the door from the treatment area. He looked a little tense, but Arthur greeted him with a beaming smile.

Arthur lifted the pink box. “Blueberry scones,” he said with a flourish. “With our compliments.”

Eames’s brows lifted. “Is this an attempt at getting a refund, Arthur? Because I’ve already spent the money.”

“Jesus, no,” Arthur said, laughing. “It’s not a negotiation tactic. I have to do enough of that at work. No, it’s just, um--” Arthur shrugged. “A thank you gift. Because we’re--well, I’m very, um, grateful.”

“Oh.” Eames blinked down at the pink box, and his cheeks colored a bit. “That’s nice of you.”

“There’s enough to share with the staff if you want to, so--here.” Arthur handed over the box. “And Eames, well.” He lifted his gaze to Eames’s face.  _ "Thank you," _ he finished earnestly, and smiled again at the slight widening of those remarkably blue eyes.

“Arthur, you're--” Eames blinked and cleared his throat. “You’re--welcome. So.” He waved at the carrier. “How is she doing?”

Arthur lifted the carrier to the table. “Really well, I think. Eating normally, and all the rest of it. She hates that collar thing, but otherwise, she’s good.”

“Hmm.” Eames opened the carrier, and the kitten hopped out, sat on the table, and immediately started pawing at the wide cloth collar around her neck. “All right, then, little love, let’s take a look and see if we can’t set you free.”

Eames deftly flipped the kitten over. He gently palpated around the incision and hummed happily at what he found. “I’ve collected every possible bit of string ribbon she could get her paws on,” Arthur said as he watched. “I got a bunch of new toys too, so maybe she won’t go looking for trouble. Oh, and the trash cans all have lids now.”

“Excellent. And this does look good. Let’s get these sutures out, shall we?” He looked up at Arthur. “I’ll take her to the back since she’s so bloody wiggly. We’ll be right back.” 

Arthur gestured behind him, toward the lobby. “Should I just--”

“No.” Eames held up one hand. “No, just wait here, please. It will only take a minute.”

“All right.” Arthur sat down in one of the chairs to wait, and took a deep breath as the door closed. Eames wasn’t just attractive, he was beautiful. Even knowing there was no chance of a relationship with him, Arthur couldn’t help wishing things were different.  He had to respect another professional’s boundaries, but Christ, it was a shame. 

He settled back into the chair and let his mind wander. He imagined Eames, after that long night of caring for his kitten a couple of weeks ago, walking into a flat full of eager, demanding pets. He must have been exhausted. Eames wanted to be surrounded by life, yes, but all the constant  _ need. _ He was surrounded by need, here and at home. The man was obviously a caretaker, but who took care of him? The thought made Arthur’s chest hurt a little.

The door from the treatment area opened, and Arthur shook his head to clear it. He stood as Eames walked in and closed the door behind him. His kitten was nowhere in sight, but Eames looked a bit pale.

“Everything OK?” Arthur asked cautiously.

“Yes. Your kitten is fine. We just need to talk.” Eames turned to face him, a serious expression on his face. “There's no easy way to say this, so here it is. You need to change vets. I can’t work with you anymore.”

Arthur’s mouth dropped open in shock. “What? Why? You just saved my cat’s life. I--we--she  _ adores _ you.”

“Still.” Eames stood up straighter. “I’m firing you as a client.”

Arthur was staring at Eames now, who was resolutely focused on a spot just over Arthur’s shoulder. “But why? Is it that I asked you out? Because I swear, Eames, I won't--”

Eames held up a hand to silence him. “I just don’t think we can continue to work well together,” he said coolly. “It’s in Kitten’s best interest that we sever our working relationship.”

“She has a name, you know,” Arthur fired back. “I was going to tell you.”

Eames just gave a little shake of his head, and after a few moments, Arthur threw up his hands. “OK. Fine. It’s fine, all right? Are you happy now? It’s just--fine.”

“The receptionist will give you a list of names. They’re all people I would trust with your kitten’s care. You might have to drive a few miles, but they're good.”

“I can’t fucking believe--” Arthur ran his hands through his hair and laughed humorlessly. “Great. That’s great. Thanks.”

“All right, then.” Eames was still expressionless.

“All right,” Arthur bit out. “Can I have my cat now, so we can  _ leave?" _

“In a moment.” Eames took a deep breath. “So just to be clear. I am no longer your cat’s veterinarian, and our veterinarian-patient-client relationship is formally and irrevocably ended. Are we agreed?”

“Jesus.” Arthur was flushed, staring with his mouth open. “Are you _legal_ _talking_ me now? What the hell, Eames?”

Eames sighed. “Arthur.  _ Please. _ Are we agreed.”

Arthur growled with frustration. “Yes,” he nearly shouted. “Yes, fine, all right, I’m fired. The relationship is severed. There.” He slapped his hands down, hard, on the countertop for emphasis. “Are you happy now?”

“Christ, yes.” Eames gave a relieved sigh. “I’m fucking ecstatic. If you’re no longer my client, I can do  _ this." _ He stepped around the corner, and Arthur’s eyes went wide. Eames took a deep, steadying breath and said in a low voice, “I’m going to kiss you now. Is that all right?”

Arthur blinked. “What?”

Eames sighed. “You’re no longer my client, and frankly, you’re bloody gorgeous, and I’m ever so fond of you, so if you’re amenable...:”

“Oh.” Arthur’s mouth fell slightly open as Eames placed a gentle hand on Arthur’s face, tracing his lower lip with his thumb. He leaned in a bit closer.

“Is that a yes?” Eames murmured.

“It sure as hell isn’t a no,” Arthur replied in a surprisingly rough voice. He closed his eyes, and--

Eames kissed him. At  _ last. _

Eames’s lips were soft and--was velvety a word? Plush. And  _ skilled, _ Christ. Arthur parted his own lips, and yes, there was Eames’s tongue, just a bit, clever, gentle,  _ effective. _ Eames tasted of coffee, and there was a hint of stubble. Beard. Whiskers.

Arthur broke the kiss, grinning against Eames’s mouth.

Eames’s lips were red and slick, and his eyes were smiling. “What?” he asked, his voice slightly rough.

“I was just thinking--” Arthur reached up and put his hand on Eames’s cheek, rubbing along the roughness there. “You’re a veterinarian, and you’ve got  _ whiskers." _

“Oh. Veterinary humor. ” Eames chuckled. “So glad I’m finally amusing you.”

“Yes, you’re hilarious,” Arthur said, looking up at Eames’s smiling blue eyes from under his lashes. He dropped his hand to grasp the lapel of Eames’s labcoat.  “Please amuse me some more,” he said on a sigh, pulling him forward.

“God, yes.” Just as their lips were about to meet, Eames paused. “Wait. What’s the kitten’s name?” he murmured.

“Oh.” He lifted a slightly trembling hand to slide down Eames’s neck and down to his collarbone, tracing softly along the tattoos he (damnably) couldn’t see.

Eames drew in a quick breath, and his eyes fluttered.

“Inky.” Arthur pressed his lips under Eames’s ear, and trailed softly down his neck. “Her name is Inky.”

He smiled against the warm skin and lifted his face, and Eames laughed against his lips. Arthur caught the sound in his mouth, and savored it. 

\-----

“Eames.”

“Hmm?”

“Is that you licking the back of my neck?”

There was a pause as Arthur blinked into the darkness.

“Tragically, no.”  Another pause. “Arthur.”

“Yes?”

“I’m assuming that’s not your fuzzy chin on my arse.”

“Not this time.”

“I see.”

Another, longer pause.

“Eames?” 

“Yes, darling?”

“You get your dog, and I’ll get my cat.”

“Fair enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kedgeree betas for me, and is a genius at it, but I could hardly ask her to work on her own present, now, could I? So many thanks to Mazarin221b, InvoluntaryOrange, 221bJen, and EnduringChill for helping me out. 
> 
> Many happy returns, K. <3


End file.
